The Game
by Luvisia
Summary: A mother and her child are pitted against Jason Voorhees in a deadly game of house. His game, his rules. No reprieves. Jason x OC [AU]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is set in no previously established Friday the 13th timeline, though it borrows more heavily from the 2009 remake than anything. I'll be using elements from all of the flims, so you might catch a nod to those while reading (such as the names of my OCs, Diana and Jessica Kimble, borrowed from "Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday"). Please, enjoy.**

**Rating: T. This story will contain detailed gore/violence and mild profanity. Read at your own discretion.**

**Disclaimer: Jason Voorhees and Camp Crystal Lake are the property of New Line Cinema. I don't own anything. I really wish I did, but I don't. Damn it. They've foiled my plans again... :P**

**Chapter 1**

"Well, it seemed like a good idea."

Diana Kimble sighed as she scrubbed at her daughter's mud-caked, yet sweetly innocent face. Little Jessica had once again come up with a wonderful playtime scenario. She had decided to go romping about outside in the aftermath of a particularly damaging storm. The tall birch tree that had called the front yard home for as long as Diana could remember had finally succumbed to nature and her lightning, dying with a sickening crack and falling upon Diana's trusty old car, which had served her faithfully since she was eighteen. (Truth be told, the car was even older than that. A dinosaur, as Jessica had affectionately christened it). The tree had also taken down the phone lines, to Diana's dismay. Not only did she have no way to go to town, she couldn't call in her absence to her boss at the Crystal Lake Diner. Of course, she would catch plenty of his frustration when she did return to work. Another stressor to add to her already hectic life.

The rain had been the strongest the small town of Crystal Lake had seen in years. Diana thought that it had sounded like shrapnel and bullets pounding against the rooftop of their home instead of water. Diana recalled fearing such storms when she herself was a little girl. The thunder and the lightining would cause her to run for cover, and she would build blanket forts to hide herself from the impending 'disaster'. Her daughter was rather different, though. Jessica sat in front of the large picture window, clothed in her cute pink nightgown, a blanket draped around her shoulders and a mug of steaming cocoa in her small hands, watching the storm unfold outside with observant, big blue eyes. The unfazed and quietly reflective expression she would have in those moments, even as lightning streaked across the sky, made her look older than her true age of seven years. Yet Diana knew that Jessica's impressive willpower wasn't the cause for her blank face during the frightening storm.

She had probably been thinking about him.

True, it had been several years since Jeff Kimble had packed his things and left his family without any warning. He had been an abusive husband who had become well-accquainted with the bottle. But more importantly to Diana, he was a loving father. He had adored Jessica with every fiber of his being, and even though they had their differences, Diana also knew that he had loved her, too. The week before his departure, he had jealously accused her of flirting with a drifter at the diner. In a fit of anger, he had smacked her across the face, and she had reeled backwards before tumbling down two flights of stairs, breaking her leg and fracturing her skull in the process. Remorse for his action was immediately apparent. He had rushed Diana to the emergency room, waited for her heal, and brought her home safely. And the night following her return, he had gone from their lives, as if they had flipped a page in some storybook only to find an unsavory ending to the short fairytale.

Diana knew that Jessica had been thinking of her father because she hadn't failed to notice the small velvet teddy bear perched on the windowsill, like a silent plush guardian over the contemplative little girl. Diana had inhaled sharply at the sight of it. The teddy bear had been Jessica's last present from her father. She would only bring it out when she was feeling particularly sad or depressed. It seemed to chide Diana with its watchful button eyes and caused guilt to well deep in her chest.

So she had called Jessica away from the window. Supposedly it had been because of the hazard the giant glass window posed in such weather. However, Diana preferred to have a happy little girl rather than one who wallowed in depression that she shouldn't have to bear. In an effort to cheer the child up, she had organized a game of laser tag in the living room. It had lightened both their spirits considerably, so afterwards, they baked cookies, and had a rough-and-tumble tickle session, which never failed to make Jessica smile. A dessert of chocolate chip cookies was shortly followed by the bedtime story, an established time of relaxation and bonding between mother and daughter. Sleep had finally called to the exhausted child, and though she had fought it valiantly, it wasn't long before Jessica had conked out on the leather couch downstairs. Though Diana had wanted to take this time to sort out all of her confusing day and perhaps get a few bills calculated, she hadn't been able to resist curling up beside her daughter and letting the sandman whisk her away to a contented, fuzzy state of being. The crash of the lightning was what woke them both. Diana had groaned as she stared out the foggy window, letting her forehead contact with the glass when she caught sight of the birch laying on the small car that she'd kept for so long. Needless to say, even when they returned to sleep (in their beds this time), the dreams of the mother and her child were unsettling from that point onwards.

Diana pat down Jessica's long brown hair with the towel, staining the fluffy whiteness with dark mud and wet, blotchy spots. The woman shook her head in disapproval and 'tsked' while she continued her ministrations, causing Jessica to fidget uncomfortably. She glanced up at her mother furitively, biting down on her lip.

"Mommy..."

"Hm?" Diana hummed as she set the towel aside, patting the warm clothes that were folded neatly at her side. "Here, take those off and put these on."

Jessica peeled the wet clothes off and slipped into the dry ones, focusing on her mother with a very intent and serious gaze as she tugged at her favorite pink sweater. Diana adjusted the collar of her daughter's sweater before resting her soft hands on her shoulders and looking into her wide eyes, blue on brown.

"What is it, honey?" Diana asked her curiously.

Jessica was quiet for a few seconds before parting her pale lips and issuing the statement that had been on her mind. "...Did Daddy love me?"

Diana paused, keeping her eyes fixed with Jessica's, continuing to delicately fiddle with the sweater's arrangement. Just after she thought they had gotten through all of this, the ever-present question on her daughter's mind had come back to haunt Diana. "Oh sweetie," she murmured as Jessica's bottom lip trembled. She could sense the tears coming. "Of course he did."

Jessica looked down, blinking away the sudden moisture in her eyes. "Then why did he leave us? Why didn't he stay, why didn't he try harder?" She knew it was wrong to accuse her father, but today seemed to be her breaking point. Emotions were swirling within her, boiling in her stomach, making her feel overwhelmed. Diana sighed softly without reply, dropping her tender brown gaze to the floor. Jessica continued, even though she didn't want to hurt her mother's feelings further. She couldn't hold back. "I dreamed about him last night. He said we were going to be a family again. He said it will be really soon." Her voice slowly cracked, and she whispered. "...Mommy, I miss him so much..."

Diana wrapped her thin arms around Jessica and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "I know baby. I know. I miss him too." She pat the hiccuping child's back gently, making soothing sounds. "It's okay. Just cry it all out. It's alright."

After some time, Jessica had detached herself from the comfort of her mother's arms and regained her composure, trying to smile timidly. At least she had Diana, whom she knew loved her unconditionally, and whom she loved back. Brief thoughts of what life would be like without her mother's support flashed through Jessica's mind, and she was happy to have them interrupted by the loud sound of a truck motor and the crunch of gravel beneath tires.

Diana looked up towards the noise and stood up, crossing the living room to the foyer. Unlike her cherubic daughter, Diana was a very willowy and thin woman, with long brown hair, pale skin and large eyes. Her looks were something that seemed to attract all the wrong sorts of attention from patrons at the diner and other people in town. However fragile she was in appearance, she certainly was not in her other aspects, namely her defiant and strong attitude.

Diana opened the door and peered outside, a little smile gracing her lips when she spotted the man approaching the house. She stepped outside, her tennis shoes squeaking on the soaked wood of the deck. "Hi Phil," she greeted the newcomer, waving in a friendly manner to the older man. Phil Warner was a neighbor who lived several acres away from the Kimble residence, across the creek and closer to the town of Crystal Lake. He owned a large amount of land for himself and had a timber business, a lifelong bachelor. However, he was very kind to the single mother who lived nearby, and never went without making sure she was alright.

He tipped his hat and smiled back. "Good morning, Ms. Kimble. I came to check on you. That storm was awful last night. How are you?"

Diana's smile faltered and she dismissively waved a hand at the wreckage of her car. "Oh, just great. That old tree finally gave in to Mother Nature," she sighed, her eyes drooping with obvious weariness at the sight. "...But, I'll have to say that I'm just grateful that nobody was hurt."

Phil shook his head. "That's a shame, I'm sorry for you. But I'm afraid that we did have a few casualties last night. A group of kids that were camping by the lake got swept away by the storm. Police say they all drowned."

Diana's expression turned to one of sympathy. "Oh my goodness," she murmured. "They should have known better than to tempt fate there... or taken shelter in the cabins at least..."

Phil shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. "It can't be helped. But you and your little girl are all right?" he pressed.

"We're fine," a little voice said. Jessica pressed her face against the screen door, smiling brightly at the two. "Hi Mr. Warner."

"Hello there, Little Miss Sunshine," Phil chuckled. "Did you sleep okay?"

Jessica nodded. "Uh-huh. And did Buster sleep okay?" Of course, she was referring to Phil's bloodhound, whom she had taken a liking to since she was very little.

Phil shook his head. "Howled all night." He glanced back up at Diana, then to the car, and back. "Would you like me to send someone up later and get that all moved for you, Ms. Kimble? It wouldn't be any trouble for my boy Jimmy."

"That would be really great, actually. Thank you so much," Diana smiled.

"Not a problem," Phil said with another tip of his hat. "He should be up here by one o'clock. Have a good day."

Diana waved goodbye to the old man while he started the noisy truck again, taking off with a splutter and a lurch, disappearing into the woods. She stared after the truck several minutes after it had gone, leaning against the rain-splattered banister and quietly breathing in the fresh scent of the storm. Jessica soon joined her, peering up at the soft grey sky and looking for any hint of the sun. After failing to find it, she tugged on the edge of her mother's crimson blouse.

"Come on Mommy. Let's go back inside. I'm hungry," said Jessica. Diana pat her head and nodded to her child. Jessica raced inside while her thirty-something parent leisurely followed her, a light smile playing upon her lips, and the screen door slammed shut behind them.

-S-

It had been all too easy to take care of the three teens who had violated his territory. Of them all, killing the female had been most satisfactory to him. She had the nerve to interrupt his mother's shrine, of all places. However, he supposed that her body made an excellent addition to his growing body count, all sacrifices to appease _her_.

The storm had been the worst he'd seen in years. The banks of Crystal Lake had overflowed, forcing him onto higher ground, and the frothing, churning, black waters had flooded most of the home which he had fought so valiantly to protect. It had devestated him. He knew that he needed to find another base of operations, preferably close to the area he defended, yet it had still been and emotional hell for him to let go of his childhood home. He had silently watched over the destroyed place all through the night... until an evergreen was struck by lighting and fell onto him, wounding him rather harshly. He inwardly winced as he recalled the dull pain that still throbbed in his right side.

Immediately after suffering the wound, his thoughts had jumped to the little house that was located just outside the camp. It was perfect. Hidden away from most tresspassers, yet close enough to carry out any punishment he saw fit for the men and women who dared interrupt his solitude. A prime place to recuperate. Although there was the issue of the two residents who already occupied it. A woman and a child. They had resided there for several years, and never had they disturbed him, but he supposed that he could easily do away with them out of necessity. He would have felt guilt over the matter if he hadn't numbed himself to such emotion for others. The only ones who were victims, the only ones who deserved any form of sympathy, were his dear mother and he himself. Besides, he reasoned, the wounds he had sustained were hardly enough to keep him from killing two weak and unsuspecting victims. He was toughened from years of living in the woods, a master of stealth, and all seven feet of him was riddled with muscle. Yes, he could handle them simply and efficently.

Still, he felt a nagging tug at his conscience as he planned how he would kill the two female occupants. He had glimpsed them sometimes in the woods, before he had the need to move from his childhood home. And each time he had come across them, he had spared them. Perhaps it was witnessing the innocent relationship between mother and child, so reminiscent of his own memories, that had caused him to back down from murdering them outright. It was a crime against nature, he had told himself then. But now he was faced with a whole new set of circumstances, and now, he forced himself to change his outlook on the matter.

It wasn't as if they could feel a love like the love between he and his own mother, he thought darkly. They weren't worthy of it.

The figure hidden in the shelter of the trees breathed heavily as he watched the mother and daughter disappear from his view. A large hand crept down to the machete that slumbered on his hip. It was always a comfortable and ever-present weight, a wonderful tool for punishing intruders on his territory, yet a constant reminder of _her_. The tarnished and red-stained blade glinted in the soft morning light as he unsheathed it. The man took one, two steps forward, finally setting one boot-clad foot into the clearing in which the house was nestled away from civilization. Mud squelched beneath his weight, but this didn't seem to phase the imposing man, who looked through the eyeholes in his hockey mask to observe the simple house. The soft breeze that had tousled the barren branches of the trees in the forest and the chitter of woodland creatures seemed to come to a standstill in that instant.

_Jason. _

He paused as he felt - no, heard - the familiar, comforting and guiding voice in his ear. Even in death, Pamela Voorhees never failed to guide her son.

_Go, Jason. _

The lumbering figure nodded once to the voice only he could hear and focused once more upon the defenseless house, tightening his grip on the machete. His dark and shadowed eyes sparked with anticipation from the depths of the mask, then settled into a detatched, calm frostiness only a killer could harbor.

They wouldn't have a clue of their fate until it was upon them.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to you all! :) Perhaps now we'll be introduced to some action? I bet you'd all like that, heheheh. All I have to say is hang on to your seats.**

**Rating: T. This story will contain detailed gore/violence and mild profanity. Read at your own discretion.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Please don't sue me. This is an adoring fangirl's tribute for chrissakes. Hence "FanFiction?" D:**

**Chapter 2**

Jessica twirled a strand of her long brown hair around her finger absently as she watched her mother cook their breakfast, her blue eyes neutral. The turkey bacon that simmered in the pan and the deliciousness it promised drew her thoughts away from sneaking a chocolate chip cookie from the plate on the counter. Besides, peeling the aluminum foil that covered the plate would make too much noise, and the little girl preferred to be stealthy in her movements - not to mention she would probably get a scolding from Diana. A quiet breath of boredom escaped her as she moved her gaze from her mother's activity, turning to the window instead.

She froze as her keen eyes caught movement just out of the view the huge glass pane offered, and she stared outside with bated breath. Maybe it was a deer? When she had been even younger, she and her mother would make mixtures of feed for the deer that roamed the woods and throw them on the lawn outside. Jessica recalled squealing in delight from the very same window, hunkered down beneath pillows and blankets along with Diana, as the timid deer crept towards the food and nibbled hesitantly before deciding to consume the tasty treat. It was a pleasant memory.

Jessica wandered over to the window, placing her hands around her eyes and peering outside. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Jessica's lips quirked into a slight pout as her hopes of seeing some healthy wildlife after the storm diminished into nothing. All that greeted her vision was a brown leaf that swirled on a current of air before sticking to the window, approximately at the place where her nose was. A giggle escaped Jessica as she considered just what had brought the leaf to its destination.

"Jessica, breakfast is ready!"

Her mother's annoucement caused Jessica to turn her head, and forgetting the simple amusement of the leaf, she left her spot at the window. She hurried over to the kitchen, which lay openly behind the spacious living room, and clambered onto a barstool, where a green plastic plate and an accompanying glass of orange juice greeted her. Diana set her own meal beside her daughter's and walked around the marble-topped bar, then sat down in the swiveling white seat beside the little girl. "Bon appetit," Diana chuckled, scooping a spoonful of eggs into her mouth. Jessica followed suit, and before long, the whole meal had been devoured.

"Mmph. I'm stuffed," the little girl mumbled. Diana laughed and took the two plates, walking back to the sink and preparing the dishwater, while Jessica slid off the barstool and rubbed her eyes, making a little mewling sound as she yawned. She turned to look at her mother, and deciding that she currently wouldn't be of much use in the kitchen, went upstairs to her room.

Diana hummed as she washed the dishes. While most people would insist on buying a dishwasher to eliminate the time-consuming chore, she found it very relaxing. Diana had been washing dishes by hand since she was a girl, and didn't plan to give it up or submit to the advancement of technology anytime soon. She scrubbed the last dish rather slowly, thinking back to the time when she had an extra plate to wash. The depressing thought was furiously pushed aside by the woman and she set the dish aside with a little extra force than was necessary. She had vowed not to think about Jeff. Damned if she was going to start now.

Diana folded the dishcloth neatly and set it over the spicket, placing her hands on the countertop and hanging her head low. She would be lying to herself if she said that Jessica's earlier words hadn't stung, like a perfectly lodged splinter or a tiny piece of glass. Though she knew it wasn't her fault, the guilt was always there, always waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Diana felt her eyes sting with the weight of her thoughts, eating away at her resolve, and she placed her hands over her face. "No," she whispered to herself. She wasn't going to let anything overwhelm her now. Jessica needed her to be strong, and that's just what she was going to be.

While she mentally calmed herself, Diana failed to notice the tall, masked figure behind her, machete in hand. Jason cocked his head to the side slightly as he observed the woman before him. His dark eyes brightened with a morbid curiousity for this particular victim. All he had to do was reach forward, grab her by the hair, and slit her throat with the blade of his machete. So, he considered, why hadn't he done so yet? He continued to watch as her hands left her face, revealing unassumingly pretty features, and she ran the backs of them over her eyes. She was sniffling slightly, like she had been crying. He knew that she hadn't spotted him yet, so why should the usually cheerful mother be so sad?

_Stop thinking. Kill her. _

Jason's darker thoughts invaded the simplicity of his quiet observation, encouraging him to complete the task he had set out to do. He resisted the urge to ignore the mantra that played in the back of his mind.

She was very much like his own mother, he thought absently.

_Kill her. Kill her._

Jason reminded himself with a furious spark of indignation that he shouldn't have been hesitant to end her life in the first place. The familiar motivator of hate spread like wildfire through his being, tensing his muscles and pumping adrenaline through his system. Jason raised the hand holding his machete, preparing for a lethal downwards blow that would surely shatter the woman's skull and splatter her pretty brains across the pristine white tile flooring. One strike, and he wouldn't have to consider the reasons for her crying anymore. One simple strike, and she would be just another dead body.

"Mommy!"

Jason paused in surprise at the word. His intense rage was ignored for the moment, and the hand holding his machete lowered several inches. Both the killer and his would-be victim turned their heads towards the stairs, where young Jessica stood, her face written with terror and her mouth agape. Diana gave her daughter a briefly confused look before she caught sight of the huge man standing behind her. Her face immediately paled and she opened her mouth. Before she could get a word out, Jason moved forward and clamped his hand hard around her throat. He didn't want to hear this one's voice before she died. With all the raw feelings he was fighting right now, he didn't know if he could bear that.

Instead, Jessica's shrill scream filled the room. "No! Don't hurt her, please! Please!"

Jason's eyes moved from the terrified face of the mother to the child. Slowly, Jason felt the familiar anger drain from his body, replaced by confusion and a sense of old pain. How could he take her mother away from her when she had done nothing, how could he make her feel the pain he had felt? Weakened momentarily by the soft emotions, he felt his grip on the woman's throat slacken, though he did not release her from her position pinned against the countertop. He had failed to notice that she had fainted.

Jessica's lips trembled. "Please let my mommy go," she pleaded with the killer.

Jason was still for several moments before he finally dropped Diana like a limp rag doll. She unceremoniously fell to the floor, her body motionless. His stare was still fixed on the child, as if he were trying to decipher her intentions. Was it all just a ploy? he wondered. And why had he released the woman when he could have easily strangled the life from her? He was deeply confused by his own actions, and he didn't like feeling out of control. Things usually went according to his plans. If they didn't, it was never on his own account. His right hand tightened on the machete, and Jessica's eyes flickered to the threatening blade, noting it. She gulped and tried to keep her composure.

Now, she would have to be strong for her mother.

"Thank you," she whispered, still fearful. Jason did not move. His eyes were still intently focused on the small girl. Jessica tried to control the shaking of her body. She knew someone needed to check on her mother, because Diana had asthma. This, however, was a little known fact. Being choked certainly wasn't the most healthy thing for her. Jessica moved from the stairs, walking slowly to her mother and the giant man who hovered over her motionless body. She inched around Jason, never moving her eyes from him. Upon coming within reach of Diana, Jessica finally averted her wide-eyed stare and fell to her knees beside the woman, placing her small hands on both of her mother's shoulders.

"Mommy?" she whimpered, shaking Diana. Her mother did not move. Jessica became more panicked. "Mommy? Mommy, wake up!"

Jessica jumped when she heard the thud of the man's boots on the white tile floor. Jason looked down on the two silently. The scene they were engaged in could have been heartbreaking, but he decidedly didn't think about it this way. He had come to a startling decision as he watched the daughter attend to her injured mother, and knew that there wouldn't be any reconsideration on his part once he followed through with this new plan. As outlandish as it seemed, he felt that it just might work. He gestured for the little girl to move. Jessica obeyed somewhat hesitantly. He then leaned down and lifted the woman from the floor.

Diana was unsurprisingly light. It took Jason little to no effort to carry her. Jessica watched, taken completely off guard by the scary man's current actions, but decided to go along with it if it would help her mother. Jason paused and looked down at the little girl, as if asking her what he should do next. She gulped and slowly pointed her index finger towards the stairs. "She s-should be put in bed," said Jessica softly. Jason immediately went to the stairs. Jessica trailed behind, her young mind overwhelmed by all of the events transpiring, different thoughts and scenarios flashing thorugh her head.

_He's gonna kill us, he's gonna kill us, he's gonna kill us... _

The same conclusion looped itself in her head until she finally physically shook herself out of the mindset. She snapped her head from side to side as she climbed up the stairs after the man.

_Stop it, Jessie. Maybe he won't. _

Maybe. What an ominous word it seemed to be now.

Jason walked down the hallway slowly, his feet treading heavily on the plush carpet that covered its floors. He entered the darkened master bedroom, sending a semi-curious glance around at the unfamiliar setting. It was strangely immaculate and devoid of much else except a bed, nightstand, bookshelf, and television, along with framed photographs. Jason placed Diana on the bed gently. The woman remained unconscious, her long hair falling about her as she rested on the crisp, dark brown sheets. Jason studied her for a moment more, noticing the faint rise and fall of her chest.

_She's still breathing._

The lights flickered on, prompting the ceiling fan's blades to begin spinning in a clockwise pattern, casting shadows in the yellow light that filled the bedroom. Surprised, Jason quickly drew his weapon and turned to face the doorway in one deft movement. The little girl who had followed him stood there. Jessica's hand was still on the light switch, and her heart thrummed madly in her ribcage at Jason's sudden reaction. She was expectantly watching him, the glimmer of fear still present in her moony eyes. Jason put away the machete once again. It slipped into the leather sheath with a snapping sound. The masked killer almost rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. All she had done was turn on the light, and here he was acting like a defensive animal. He tilted his head ever so slightly as he considered her.

Yes, thought Jason, this would be an interesting game to play.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you kindly for the reviews, faves, and alerts! :3 There will be more interesting things to come, so read on, crickets. Read on. You might just be surprised at what happens. Or maybe not. Either way, you won't find out if you don't read. XD**

**Rating: T. This story will contain detailed gore/violence and mild profanity. Read at your own discretion.**

**Disclaimer: What do I have to do, dress in drag and do the hula? -_- I don't own Friday the 13th. **

**Chapter 3**

Blackness surrounded Diana. Pain dully throbbed in her chest and throat. Her hazy mind struggled to recall just what had happened to her before she had been taken by the darkness.

She had breakfast with Jessica... was cleaning the dishes... then...

Terror swept over Diana as she remembered being strangled by the man in the hockey mask, her daughter screaming something that she couldn't quite hear, and the lack of air pulling her down into the black void. Diana paused her train of thought, trying to combat the fear she was feeling with reason. Her body tensed. She could hear her breathing, though it was somewhat shallow and ragged. So she wasn't dead. That was a relief. But what had happened to Jessica?

Chills overcame Diana. What had happened to her baby girl?

Diana groaned softly as she struggled to open her eyes. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, where her earlier tears had already dried, and she cast her gaze around the room. She was in her bedroom... but how had she gotten there? Diana cursed herself for being unable to remember anything. She shook her bangs from in front of her eyes and forced herself to sit up straight on the comfortable bed. Her throat was still sore and raw. She involuntarily coughed and gasped a few times before swallowing harshly, clenching the brown sheets in her fists and nodding her head, steeling herself for whatever she might encounter. Diana threw her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself into standing position. Her brown eyes suspiciously moved to the closed door.

Diana advanced upon the door and pressed her ear to the white paneling, listening for any noise. All was silent in the hallway. She grasped the chilly brass knob, expecting to find it locked, but to her surprise, it easily turned in her hand. Diana pushed the door open and peered into the hallway. Nothing was disturbed, and everything seemed to be in order. She began to wonder if it was all only a dream as she cautiously walked down the hallway. That was, until she peeked into her daughter's room to find it perfectly empty. Diana took the stairs two at a time. Wild thoughts and prayers echoed in her mind as she hurried to check the lower levels of the house.

_Please don't let her be hurt please don't let her be dead please God-_

Diana's hand left the smooth cherrywood banister as she almost tripped on the last step and fell onto the hardwood floor in her haste to enter the foyer. She caught herself at the last moment, and briefly thanked herself for choosing to wear comfortable tennis shoes instead of her heels today. She paused for a moment, listening for any noises. Diana tried to restrain herself from crying out in relief when she heard a muffled voice carrying from the living room. As she cleared the few steps that were necessary to reach the doorframe, she couldn't have anticipated the sight that she was presented with.

The television was on. Diana's eyes locked onto the happy face of five-year-old Jessica on the screen, squealing with delight as her father pushed her on the swing at the park. She caught a glimpse of herself, a bright smile on her face, waving for the camera, and then the focus returned to Jeff, who was sporting a content grin.

The masked man who had attacked her was there, sitting in the large chair that had once belonged to Jessica's father. He had the little girl cradled in his arms, as if she were a baby, and was rocking her gently. Jessica had submitted to the strange and unexpected treatment, clinging onto his tattered jacket, her tired eyes fixed on the TV screen.

Jason glanced up at Diana as she entered the room. The half-lidded and calm stare, which had been fixed on the television, was now alert and intently watching her thin form advance towards them. Diana could see that his dark eyes held a deep curiosity as he looked upon her, and she felt that this particular curiosity was oddly childlike in its nature.

"...Jessica?" the woman called weakly, confounded by the scene before her. She was frightened of the man holding Jessica, but was perhaps even more frightened by what he might do to her baby girl if provoked. Jason shifted uncomfortably as Jessica's eyes turned to the doorway and she saw her mother, her mouth opening in surprise.

"Mommy?" she whispered.

Jason looked between his two captives. He held the little girl a bit tighter, almost possessively, as her mother inched forward. Giving her the girl right away wasn't a part of his plan, and besides, he had no inclination to at the moment. Though he had insisted to himself that he had all control over what he was doing, in truth, he'd been overcome by a strange, sudden need. He supposed it was natural and base in its nature, given his history. But still, he was still taken off guard by it.

It was a need for family.

The wild notion that he could keep these two girls for his own had entered Jason's mind somehow. When, he couldn't quite tell. But it didn't matter. He knew he could pull it off. The mother reminded him of his own, and the little girl had no father. Just like his own past. Some of his reserve had crumbled into nothing, forcing him to acknowledge the whole situation, and increasingly, to feel something about it. No longer was it just about gaining a new home, but also, its two occupants. He could keep them all to himself. Nobody would come to take them away. And if a threat did present itself, he could get rid of it easily. As for the mother and daughter, Jason hoped that would play along. If they didn't, if they ended up hurting him, ruining this make-believe fantasy and slighting this mercy he had decided to show on them... they could face the business end of his blade.

Simply enough, Jason Voorhees wanted to insinuate a game of house.

Jason recalled what he had done after placing the mother in her bed. He had taken the little girl downstairs, leaving the woman unsupervised. He knew that she wouldn't leave the home or try to escape without her daughter if she were a good, loving mother. He and the girl sat in silence for the longest time, he in the chair, and she on the couch. Staring at each other. Finally, the child made a noise.

She had sighed.

Apparently she knew that she couldn't outrun him, so she had merely stepped to the cabinet. He had watched her withdraw a videocassette, click on the TV, and put it in the VCR. Then, completely ignoring him (much to his annoyance), she had proceeded to watch the tape. His attention had slowly been dwindling until he had heard the telltale, feminine sniffle. Again, Jason was faced with tears. And he wasn't the cause. Feeling a twinge of anger at his inability to understand why the child was crying, he also began to watch the tape, and finally gained insight into the lives of the two would-be victims.

The man, he assumed, was the father of the child. Therefore, the husband of the woman. Apparently, he was no longer around. And this, he decided, must have been the reason for the little girl's tears. He immediately connected the two due to his own past experience. His own father, Elias Voorhees, had left he and his mother at a young age. Jessica, like him, seemed to miss her father, and he wouldn't begrudge her that. So he had scooped her up into his arms, and pretending that it was his younger self that he might be comforting, he began to rock her, as his mother Pamela used to do when he was sad.

And that was when Diana had walked in, and interrupted the moment.

Diana's eyes slowly widened as something clicked. A name surfaced in her mind, a name that was rarely heard around the small town of Crystal Lake, a name that was treated like a taboo. The name that belonged to the Crystal Lake Slasher. The man who supposedly killed the teenagers and vacationers that disturbed "Camp Blood." The camp that was located right near her home. And that must have been wrecked by the record storm.

Jason Voorhees, she realized with a sinking feeling, was just who was holding her child.

Diana paused as Jason's curious gaze took a turn for possessive, perhaps even a little angry, as she came even closer. Her face must have reflected her fear, because Jessica wriggled in Jason's hold, giving her mother the bravest look she could manage. "It's okay Mommy," she whispered. "He won't hurt us... I don't think."

Jason glanced down at Jessica, then back to Diana, seeming to not quite agree with the child's words as gave her mother a dark glare. Even though she couldn't see his face, which was concealed by the hockey mask, his expressive eyes said it all for Diana. 'Don't take another step', they told her. So instinctively, she obeyed the silent warning, her hands twitching uselessly at her sides, her expression pleading and desperate. His attention returned to Jessica, and he began to rock her again, though more warily.

Diana swallowed. She needed her baby back in her arms, not on the lap of a deranged psychopath. "...Jason?" she asked softly.

The man froze, his eyes flicking back up to her in an instant. Diana took a breath in. She was happy to have caught his attention, yet disturbed that the legend of Jason was, in fact, true. Even more disturbed that he was in her house, holding them hostage. She continued nonetheless.

"Jason, please... please give me my little girl."

Like a child refusing to share their favorite toy, Jason immediately looked away and held Jessica even more tightly, forgetting his strength and making the child yelp in mild pain. Diana gasped at the sound. She set her face in determination, her eyes narrowing in anger.

"Give her to me, Jason!"

The young mother immediately lost any courage that she might have harbored when Jason shifted Jessica under one arm and suddenly whipped out the blood-encrusted machete, stabbing it down at her with obvious fury and intent. Diana barely had time to duck out of the way. She fell to the floor and scrambled backwards, but the blade caught her on the leg, slicing through her jeans and grazing the tender flesh of her thigh. Blood welled up from the wound, smearing her leg with a crimson color that matched her blouse. Diana cried out in pain, jerking away from Jason and throwing herself against the couch. Jessica looked on in terror, actively struggling and thrashing about against Jason's hold. The mass murderer struck his weapon into the floor beside him. His furious gaze sent a clear message Diana's way. The woman cowered at the foot of the couch as she watched him attempt to soothe the distraught seven year old in his arms as best he could, but Jessica refused to cooperate. He made a noise - like a growl, really - and tugged her sweater a little forcefully. Fearful, Jessica finally leaned into him. He settled his calloused hand on the girl's head, and the tension began to leave his body, even though she refused to relax while he idly picked at strands of her silky brown hair, twirling them around his rough fingers. Jason allowed himself to become calm once more in this manner.

Diana took a shaky breath as everything finally settled down, resting her weight on her palms, feeling a cold sweat develop over her body as she locked eyes with her captor. Jason's eyes became hard again when they met hers, and he gave Diana a very cold, chiding look that she knew was reserved just for her. It was the sort of look that a cross parent would give a disobedient child. Those calculating eyes reminded her of an animal, the kind that relied and acted upon base instinct. She knew that Jason was a murderer. Twice now, he had tried to kill her.

Until she could figure out Jason's motives, until she and Jessica could find a way to escape him, Diana knew that she would have to play by his rules.


End file.
